


Round and Round I Follow

by donutsweeper



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Character Death, Crossover, Gen, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5608264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As John lay dying two men appeared out of nowhere to comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Round and Round I Follow

  
_Iago: In following him, I follow but myself;_  
 _Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,_  
 _But seeming so, for my peculiar end._  
Othello (Act I, Scene 1), William Shakespeare

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John was dying.

He hadn't seen the attack coming, hadn't even suspected a thing. He'd merely clomped up the stairs, his mind already on the tea he'd make as soon as he could and what he should start for dinner. It would be easy to blame his exhaustion, he'd just come off a twelve hour shift, or the rain or any of a hundred other things, but in the end it didn't matter. A man had been waiting in the sitting room, completely nondescript and unassuming, but the moment John greeted him the man attacked, pulling a knife out of his pocket and throwing it with deadly accuracy.

"The message is the knife," the man said, stepping over to where John had fallen, the knife embedded in his chest. "And the body. Sorry 'bout that, mate." And then he was gone.

John attempted to call out, shout for Mrs Hudson downstairs, but he could manage no more than a gasp. Then he tried to dig into his pocket for his mobile, but his fingers were numb and unresponsive.

The amount of blood he was losing, the damage to the pericardium, he had only minutes left.

Oh, Sherlock.

Suddenly a man was there, bending over him. John hadn't even seen him arrive. Hands roughened by age caressed his cheek. "You mustn't worry." Grey eyes, filled with concern, stared down at him. "It will begin again soon enough."

A second man appeared, kneeling next to the first. "It hurt when he left you behind, I know," he said, stroking his moustache as his sad eyes looked into John's own. "It had to be done though, the cycle could not be broken."

"I should never have done so, Watson," the first man addressed the other before turning to John. "It lay the trail that all others followed."

He leant back and John's eyes must have been playing tricks on him because the room was filled with people, all paired off and all looking solemnly at him. All somewhat similar to the two men who knelt at his side. And suddenly he understood. "Sherlock Holmes." His voice was reedy, barely above a whisper.

"At your service." And the man removed his hat and bowed his head slightly. "And may I present my faithful friend and trusty boswell, John Watson."

"I am sorry you did not have longer with your Sherlock, John," John Watson began softly, "but, never fear, the world will always be in need of a Sherlock Holmes-"

"And any Holmes worthy of the name will always need his, or her, Watson," Sherlock Holmes finished as he and the others began to fade away. "Now it is time to rest; until the next time, anyway."

John's eyes fluttered closed of their own volition. 

His breathing hitched, and then stopped, just as the door below was thrown open and Sherlock ran up the stairs.


End file.
